Detective Comics
by D
Summary: The thrilling and unique adventures of the Bat. What is it?
1. The Case of the Chemical Syndicate

The Bat

The Case of the Chemical Syndicate

May 3, 1940

The car pulling up the driveway had seen better days, as had its driver. Commissioner James Gordon parked and exited his vehicle. Ten years as commissioner and almost as long as police captain, and he had never gotten use to the sight before him. The house that he found himself in front of was old. The stately home of the Wayne family never failed to fill him with awe as he rang the doorbell.

The door opened seconds later as a tall, narrow-faced man in a black formal suit appeared in the doorway. "Good evening Commissioner. Mistress Elizabeth is waiting in the parlor. Shall I take your coat?"

"No thanks, just wanted to stop in. I won't be a minute." The butler nodded and carefully stepped aside as he entered. A brisk walk later found him inside a well furnished room. Sitting in an armchair, with a freshly lit cigarette sticking out of a holder at arm's length, was the reason for his visit.

In all the years Gordon knew Elizabeth Wayne, he was always amazed at how she rarely seemed to put any effort into anything. He had to admit they came from almost completely opposite ends of the class spectrum. He had been a native born son of what most Gotham City residents called 'The Narrows', a lower class area if there ever was one. Wayne, on the other hand, was the only child of the Wayne family, founders of the fair city and one of the wealthiest in the world.

Taking a seat opposite her and lighting up his pipe, Gordon found himself thinking back on the memories he had in that room. Elizabeth was so engrossed in a flimsy paperback she had barely looked in his direction. He wasn't surprised by this point. Their visits sometimes would go on like that for hours. Gordon kicked himself for his softness, but then he remembered how they first met.

_It had been ten years ago. Elizabeth's parents had taken her to see a movie down near Park Row. Leaving the theater, her father had been stopped by a man. The man wanted his wife's necklace. Her father, Thomas, had been a proud man. Whereas most men would have simply handed the valuables over, Thomas chose to fight. It was the bravest thing he had ever done. It was also the last. _

The robber fired blindly. Thomas had taken a slug to the chest, her mother, Martha, one to the abdomen. Elizabeth had been spared. Gordon never forgot the look on that girl's face…

"I said what do I owe the privilege?" Gordon blinked. He muttered an apology, but Elizabeth shushed him. "I was only kidding." Putting the book down, she picked up the holder and took a long drag. "Since you happen to be here, do you mind if I ask a question?"

Gordon smiled. "Feel free."

"What's this I hear about a masked madman? What are the papers calling it, a bat?"

Gordon's smile faded. "The Bat? Rubbish, absolute rubbish."

"But I hear more and more crooks are being fond tied up."

"Poppycock!" Gordon found himself getting angrier. True, criminals were speaking of a new mystery man about town, he the last thing he wanted to admit that a vigilante was active in his town. "That bum 'Slugsy' Kyle started all of this. He just fouled up a job and wanted to create something to take the heat off of him, I know it!"

"Oh, calm down Commissioner, I'm sorry I brought it up. I was only teasing you know." Gordon calmed down, but not by much.

"Sorry, but if there is one thing I can't stand it's someone taking the law into their hands." The door to the hall opened.

"Yes Alfred?"

"Telephone for the commissioner. It sounds rather urgent."

Gordon jumped from his seat. Following the butler, he took the phone call in the study. "Gordon." The voice at the other end of the call spoke quickly. He noted the details and sighed before hanging up the phone.

"I'm sorry Elizabeth, but I'm afraid I'll have to cut my visit short."

"Oh dear." Elizabeth looked blasé about the interruption as she removed the cigarette and put it out. "Another case of cops and robbers?"

"No, murder." Seeing her flinch, Gordon mentally scolded himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so blunt. Charles Lambert was found murdered in his home an hour ago."

"Lambert the Chemical King?" Elizabeth paled. "My uncle does business with his company. What happened?"

Gordon tried to calm her. "It looks pretty open and shut. The maid came in early and found Lambert's son holding a knife over him."

"Frederick? Impossible, I've known that man almost all my life. I have to see him!" Charging for the door, Gordon was not surprised to see the butler standing by the door with a coat and had at the ready.

"Elizabeth, this a crime scene, I can't bring you there!"

"Nonsense. I know Freddie Lambert, commissioner, and I know he's not the killer. I can prove it too."

Thus Gordon found himself driving to the crime scene with the society page's number one gal by his side. The drive was quick and a small group of black and whites were already parked in front of Lambert's house. "I'll let you see Lambert's son, but only after I've questioned him." Gordon was firm and he was glad Wayne didn't argue.

Inside the house Gordon pushed past officers and various hangers-on. Making his way to the scene of the crime, he cleaned his glasses before looking at the body. Charles Lambert had been an old man, old and rich. His family had helped to establish Gotham City along with the Waynes. He had been stabbed in the back with a letter opener several times, bleeding out on the formerly priceless rug under his feet. "What a waste."

Before the man was a small safe hidden in the wall near the floor. It was empty. "Any ideas on what was taken?" A younger patrolman shook his head.

"No idea sir. We got the kid in one of the gust rooms. Maid came in early and found the old man on the floor and sonny holding the pig-sticker over him."

"Let me see the kid." Gordon knew the reputation of the city's police was not exactly golden. He knew that the younger Lambert would be safe, as the department could not stand to be seen as thugs by the richer citizens. He grumbled as he moved to the back room.

Gordon found the younger Lambert slumped in a chair. His eyes were red and puffy. "Clear out." His voice was cool. The few detectives there silently left. One of the men passed and whispered.

"He's lawyered up chief."

.

Gordon nodded and turned his attention back to the young man. "You alright son?"

Lambert nodded. "I didn't kill my father. I came home and found him lying there. The window latch had been forced open from the outside." The young man looked like he was about to cry again. Gordon put a hand on his shoulder.

"Just tell me what happened."

"I tried to save him, but there was so much blood!" Lambert sniffled. "He kept saying 'contract' over and over."

"Contract? What kind of contract?"

"I don't know. Father never told me about the business, I swear."

Gordon paused. It could be possible that he was telling the truth. Of course, he could also be lying. "Mr. Lambert, I'm going to need you to stay in town." A commotion outside told him that the press had already gotten wind of the mess. He could have slapped the cuffs on the boy, but accusing a Lambert without a foolproof case would have him walking a beat again. Seeing himself out, he went out to greet the reporters. He noticed Wayne standing off to the side, well away from the flashbulbs of the cameras. "Good girl. Last thing her uncle would want is her getting involved in this mess."

~W

Elizabeth Wayne studied the crime scene carefully. She wryly thought back on those years spent traveling, learning everything from everyone, from lock picking to martial arts under the best minds in their respective fields. It had taken years, but the true defining moment came, oddly enough, while she was sitting in her library. A bat of all things had flown in through an open window. It had taken her months of further training, but she was ready. Focusing on the room, she could tell the crime lab boys had done a thorough job. The killer had defiantly entered through the bay windows, but she couldn't think of a motive.

Entering the room while everyone was busy elsewhere, she carefully made her way to Lambert's desk. She knew the old man had kept everything tidy. Scribbled on yesterday's Gotham Gazette were three names. "Crane, Rogers, and Stryker?" She recalled that Lambert had started Apex Chemicals with three men with those names. "This might be a clue." Leaving the paper on the desk, she slipped through the crowd toward Commissioner Gordon.

"Is Freddie going to be alright?"

Gordon coughed into his fist. "Yes, I don't think he did it, but we'll have to do a complete investigation you understand."

"Of course. Do you mind if I take a taxi home? I fear all this excitement has made me quite fatigued." Putting her hand to her forehead for emphasis, she stole away from Gordon and made her way outside.

A red coupe was parked at the corner. Alfred opened the door for her before slipping behind the wheel. "Home, Mistress Elizabeth?"

"Not quite Alfred." As the car sped away, she reached under the backseat and pulled out a tightly wound bundle. "Make a stop at Steven Crane's house. I fear another man's life may be at stake."

~B

Steven Crane was only five years Lambert's junior. You would never be able to tell from looking at him. A life of stress and excess had turned black hair white and taut muscles into jelly. None of these facts mattered at the moment, as Steven Crane was quite dead.

Crane was splayed out on the floor in his library, a smoking hole in the center of his forehead. The killer brazenly stood over the corpse as he knocked books away from the shelf. "Come on, where did the boss say it was hidden?"

Sending priceless first editions tumbling to the floor, the killer gave a low whistle when he found the safe. Effortlessly opening it, he withdrew a small folded piece of paper when a shadow passed by the window. Spinning around, he fired once, smashing a pane on the bay windows. "Must have been a bird."

"Not quite." A low voice whispered from the shadows. Before the killer could bring his gun around, he saw moonlight glint on something. The object whistled through the air and struck his wrist. His entire arm went numb. "Why did you kill Crane and Lambert?"

The killer paled. The shadows seemed to be moving, coming closer and closer. "Stay back!" He backed up against the bookcase. Throwing the paper at the shapeless horror, he dived headlong through the bay windows and staggered out onto the lawn.

Police sirens filled the air as the flashing lights briefly illuminated the room. Elizabeth Wayne had put her years of training to work. The bat had provided the final ingredient. Her costume was mostly gray and dark blue. Her face was covered in a heavy cowl that sported twin points over her forehead. A black bat etched on her chest would be the only clue that she would give her prey. Her study of the criminal mind showed that most people responded to fear.

Fear of the dark

Fear of the unknown

Garbing herself in those, she knew she could strike terror in the hearts of evil. Snatching the fallen paper, she slipped out the way she entered, totally unseen by the arriving police. Slipping back into the coupe, she silently read the contract as Commissioner Gordon arrived at the scene.

"What's he saying?"

"I'm not sure sir. He just keeps rambling about a giant bat." Gordon swore under his breath. What was going on in his city?

~R

"What is going on?" William Rogers heard someone enter his bedroom. Quickly reaching for the lamp on the nightstand, he simultaneously removed a pistol from the drawer. A dark clad figure stood in the center of the room holding a piece of paper up. "Who are you?"

The Bat put the contract in his hand. "What does this mean?"

"This?" Rogers unfolded it with one hand. "Where did you get this?" The stranger's costume was odd, but Rogers grew more curious about the contract.

"From the dead body of Steven Crane. Lambert's copy has been stolen, and I think you're next on the list."

Rogers's jaw dropped. "What?"

The stranger moved closer. "Mr. Rogers, I need to know what this document means."

Rogers lowered the weapon. "You seem smart, so I'll skip to the basics. Lambert, Crane, Stryker, and I founded Apex. Lambert provided all the money, Crane and I handled the business, and Stryker made the chemicals."

Rogers got up from the bed and moved to the wardrobe in the corner. "If it wasn't for Stryker's discoveries we would have gone belly up ten years ago. When he tried to leave and start his own company, Lambert held him to his contract. He threatened to sue, but we compromised. If he could buy us out we would let him go."

"And this contract proves it." The stranger mused. The stranger's face was entirely covered, muffling the voice. "But if all three of you died, then he could rewrite it and take over the company."

Rogers paled. "I never thought of that. Good Heavens, Stryker murdered the other two?" The realization just hit him. He shakily sat back down on the bed.

"I need you to get up." The stranger stepped closer. Rogers had to focus not to stare at the twin peaks on the cowl that covered the stranger's head and face. He could see a strong jaw line, but all the other details were utterly obscured by the material. "Get dressed, you're going to Stryker's home tonight."

"What? Why?"

"Stryker doesn't know that I know. He'll be getting curious about his killer not arriving. Get there within thirty minutes and he won't suspect a thing."

Rogers reluctantly got up. "Wait, who are you?"

The stranger was already leaving via the window. Before disappearing into the night, Rogers heard a voice. "Call me…the Bat."

Later, after Rogers dressed and drove to Stryker's isolated home

Parking in front of the home, Rogers tried to rub his palms dry as he stepped out of the car. Seeing no lights and no trace of the mysterious stranger, Rogers checked his pockets. The contract was in one and his pistol in the other.

Walking around to the back door, Rogers rang the bell. A light appeared almost instantly. The heavy oak door slowly opened. "Yes?" The man was massive. His beady eyes peered at Rogers from under a sloped brow. His voice was slow and drawn out.

"Jennings, right? I need to speak with Mr. Stryker."

"Come this way sir." Jennings stood aside as Rogers entered the house. Rogers paused as he realized that he had never been inside Stryker's house before. The entire room was dark. The air was thick with a chemical smell. Off to the side by a railing was the unmistakable sound of something bubbling. No sooner had Jennings closed the door then Rogers felt the ham hock sized hands clamp down on his shoulder. "Mr. Stryker has instructed me to take care of you."

"I bet." Rogers muttered under his breath.

Jennings quickly shoved him to the floor. Rogers went for his gun, but Jennings drew a pistol from his waistcoat. "Just lay still sir."

Above their heads was a skylight. The moonlight reflected brightly off of Jennings' bald scalp. Rogers caught something moving. A shadow darted across the window before everything went mad.

A shape broke through the skylight. The Bat dropped through, spreading her cape open, as she seemed to glide onto the larger man's back. Rogers rolled out of the way to escape the glass. The Bat wrapped her arms around the servant's neck. Within seconds Jennings was unconscious. Rogers was amazed. "What did you do?"

"A modified wrestling hold."

"Quite ingenious my dear." Stryker himself appeared out of the shadows. He had a shotgun trained on both of them. The portly man gestured towards a circle on the floor. "Rogers old boy, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. When my errand boy failed to return, I was most put out."

"Can it Stryker. The police are on their way." The Bat glowered. Stryker was taken aback but shrugged.

"I think you're bluffing. Not that that would matter as you'll both be dead within seconds." He stepped on an unseen button hidden in the floor. A large glass dome fell over the Bat and Rogers, trapping them both. Stryker lowered his weapon and made his way over to a control box. "I realize you can't hear me, but it so rare that I get to explain my plans to anyone." He pointed to the top of the dome. "What you can't smell is a potent nerve gas I've developing. It kills within seconds. Right now I'm filling the chamber with the first half of the compound. When I turn the second lever here, you will quite dead."

Seeing movement in the dome, Stryker's hand stopped. "Eh, what are you doing?" The strangely glad woman had reached down to her belt and removed what appeared to be a small handful of putty. She packed it tightly into a ball and pressed it against the wall. "What silliness is this?" Stryker moved closer, his scientific curiosity overriding his common sense. Seeing Roger take cover behind the woman as she kneeled, pulling her cape over her head, the realization of the mysterious material's purpose was revealed. "No!"

The world was suddenly condensed into two sensations: blinding light and searing pain. The putty was an explosive. The detonation shattered the side of the dome and sent thousands of glass shards into everything before it, including Stryker. "I can't see!" He stumbled, groping madly for his shotgun.

"Wait you fool!" Rogers shouted as he peered out from behind the Bat's cape. "You're too close to the edge!"

Stryker stumbled blindly against the railing, but his momentum and bulk overcame the simple metal bars. He lost his footing and tumbled over the side. A loud splash was head a second later, followed by Stryker's agonizing scream. The scream dragged out for what seemed ages before finally stopping all at once.

"The poor man." Rogers carefully approached the edge. "Acid. Gads, what a horrible way to go!"

The Bat was indifferent. "It was a fitting end to his kind. Don't forget, he did murder two other men tonight."

"That's a bit cold, don't you think?" Rogers turned around, but found himself alone save for the still slumbering Jennings. "How did she do that?"

The next day

Gordon saw himself to the back patio. Alfred was quietly on hand with a tray filled with bacon, eggs, and coffee. "Mistress Wayne shall be down shortly sir. Shall there be anything else?" He sat the tray down before him.

"No, thank you." Gordon picked at the breakfast. Alfred's cooking alone would justify the visit, but he felt almost embarrassed for his being there.

"Oh, there you are!" Elizabeth strolled into the daylight. "How is the breakfast?"

"Wonderful, as always, but did you really have to go to such lengths?"

"Well, I did want to apologize for my behavior last night. Besides, don't you deserve something for solving that case?"

Gordon almost gagged on the coffee. He maintained his composure, but only barely. "Well, it wasn't though I did the work myself." The rest of the conversation drifted into more general topics, but at length Gordon finished the meal and went back to his office.

"Elizabeth is a swell gal, but I've never seen someone have so much yet do so little with it." Driving into the city proper, he briefly thought back to the young Wayne's laughter when he told her she really needed a hobby. "What did she mean by that?" He filed that away for a latter date. "The Bat though, that lunatic has to be stopped, and by George, I intend to do just that!" He couldn't help but think of Wayne's odd smile as he left. The thought was pushed back as he went about his day and other matters. The image of what the criminals described refused to leave him. "The Bat's days are numbered in this town."

The end

The following story was based on "The Case of the Chemical Syndicate", which was first published in Detective Comics#27 (May 1939). Credits to Bill Finger (script) and possibly Bob Kane (pencils and inks-maybe). All characters and copyrights are owned by DC and Time-Warner. All rights reserved.

A huge thanks to PFP and that cool comic cat that helped inspire this whole crazy mess.

Next time, be here as the Bat tangles with a cunning cat burglar!

And be sure to keep your peepers peeled for these and other titles, available at your nearest monitor-

Sensation Comics#2-The Menace of Dr. Poison!

Action Comics#2-Revoultion!


	2. The Case of the Curious Cat

The Bat

The Case of the Curious Cat

Gimpy was not a happy man. His choice of nicknames aside, what truly vexed him on this cool summer night was his state of finanical affairs. "Lousy dogs, couldn't run straight if they were on fire!" he groused as he limped outside the Stacked Deck Bar.

He was so preoccupied by his monetary woes that he failed to see the thin line drop down from above until it tightened around his shoulders. Yanked off of his feet, he found himself face to face with something he had previously dismissed as a myth.

"The Bat!"

"Yes Gimpy." The unholy creature growled. "You have information that I want."

"Ah, I don't have to say nothing unless I have my attorney present!"

"True, but if you don't, I might be angry enough to shake that rope. If I do that, you drop, right into a noose."

Gimpy paled. "Ok, ok, I was only fooling. What do you want to know?"

"Frenchy Blake has been seen around the local fences with some hot stuff. How did he get it?"

"The tooth fairy, I don't know!" Gimpy tried to shake himself loose and only succeeded into moving the rope up an inch. "Blake's a smart guy, has a different crew every time. That's what I heard I swear!"

"I believe you." The Bat vanished into the dark. Gimpy swung freely for a second before he heard a loud pop. The next sensation he was aware of was the hard concrete on his backside.

~B

"The explosive worked on the pulley. Good thing too, else I never would have been able to lift that stoolie." Elisabeth Wayne sat in a rather unladylike fashion as she peeled off her mask. "But I still don't know where Blake is hiding."

"Perhaps this will be a clue Mistress Elisabeth." Alfred handed her the evening edition of the _Gotham Times._

"Rare diamonds to be auctioned." Elisabeth smiled when she read the article. "A likely target. I think the Bat will have to investigate."

~The next night

Gloves and Slick exited the Dumont Auction House the same way they entered: through the roof. "Come on man, the boss wanted these things a hour ago!" Gloves took the bag out of Slick's hands and edged towards the edge of the roof.

"And like I said then, cracking a safe takes time. Besides, what's the hurry?"

"Besides missing evening chowtime at Blackgate?" An eerie voice echoed over the rooftop.

"Who's there?" Slick pulled a knife. Gloves drew a pistol and dropped the bag.

Two hard objects flew out of the darkness and struck both their wrists. The gun in Gloves' hand went off by mistake, blowing out a window across the street and somehow setting off an alarm.

"Move it!" Slick grabbed the bag from the ground and hopped over the side. The ladder they had planted was still there. With practiced agility, the second story man slid down to the ground. "Let's go!"

Gloves nodded and turned his back to the roof. A firm hand on his back made him jump. "Stay away!" His heart was beating like a jackhammer. He didn't even know how the knife got in his hand or how the black demon in front him tossed him. He was briefly aware of freefalling sideways…

~C

Officer Clancy grumbled to himself as he sped through the deserted streets. "Lousy alarms. Always on the fritz, probably just a rat in the wiring." He clenched the wheel. Ordinarily his partner would joke about Clancy's ulcers getting ulcers, but true to form Mike had called in sick. "Lousy creep. Why can't anything good ever happen to me?"

The broken body of Gloves crushing his engine did little to alleviate his mood. Swerving into the curb, Clancy scrambled out his car, pistol drawn. "What the blazes?" In the dim light from the street, Clancy saw a figure peering over the edge of the roof. "Hold it!" He fired at the figure.

Scrambling for the radio, Clancy breathlessly spoke into the radio. "Get the commissioner over to the Dumont, the Bat just killed a guy!"

~B

The morning edition of the _Gotham Times_ had the lurid "Masked Killer Strikes!" headline across three columns. Alfred sighed as he brought the paper along with a small breakfast of bacon, eggs, and orange juice to the master bedroom.

Elisabeth was sweating profusely as she unleashed a flurry of punches against the suspended punching bag. Alfred stepped inside and set the tray down on the dresser. He stood off to the side as Elisabeth capped off by kicking the bag off of its hook, sending it crashing into the wall. "I take you read this morning's edition?"

"No need Alfred." She slipped a towel over her neck. Ignoring the paper, she munched on the food. "They're right."

"Mistress Elisabeth, from your own account the man was trying to kill you."

"I know that, but I lost control of the situation. The police think I'm part of the gang. That means Blake is free to act."

"Unless you stop him."

She smiled. It was slight, but it was there. "True, but this makes my job ten times more difficult."

~F

Frenchy Blake laughed heartily as he scanned the headlines. "Shame Gloves bought it," he mockingly sighed, "but at least the job wasn't a total loss."

"About that boss..." Slick pointed to the paper. "What are we going to do about the Bat?"

"My dear fellow, 'we' are going to do absolutely nothing." Blake put his hand into the bag and withdrew a small amount of diamonds. "You, on the other hand, are going to get a new crew. My sources tell me a rather expensive collection of Monet is going to be stored in a rather unsecured location. Get me those paintings."

Slick nodded and stepped back. There was no point in arguing with the man. Blake had the look of a city dandy, but Slick had seen him personally smash a man's skull to pieces for messing up a job. He left the hotel and made his way to the usual meeting place.

He tightened his coat as he went down the rat infested stairwell. There was never any heat in that old building. Blake joked about the old hotel as being the perfect hiding place. "Who would look for a rich man here?"

"Yeah, and who would want to stay here either?" Slick thought to himself as he exited into a garbage encrusted alley. "This whole city is crazy. After this next job, I'm going back to Opal."

The night

A cool breeze went through the city, bringing some relief from the heat. Doug Kempt didn't notice or care, what with his being unconscious. Slick and Ricky had slipped in through the basement and cut the wires to the building. Doug, deciding a blown fuse was the true culprit, went down to investigate and got a slapjack to the back of his head for his trouble. Ricky stopped long enough to take the man's keys before leaving him tied up.

The pair of burglars moved quickly, up the stairs and down the right number of halls past the same bland doors to their prize. "Come on, where is this junk?"

"Ain't you got no appreciation for art?" Ricky asked as he used the key on the right door. The small stacks of paintings were casually leaning against the wall.

"I'll appreciate them more when we are back at the boss's digs." Slick stayed out in the hall and Ricky picked up the entire stack and tucked them under his arm.

"Boy, wonder why the owners put them here instead of in a safe?" Ricky asked as them moved towards the fire exit.

"Maybe the owners are stupid; how do I know?" Slick as opened the door. A foot slammed in his jaw, knocking him down.

"Evening gents." The Bat's voice echoed from the stairwell.

"Forget the colors, split!" Slick bolted. Ricky dropped the paintings and drew a gun.

A small bat shaped thing flew out of the darkness and struck Ricky in the wrist. He cried in pain as he dropped the pistol. One jab to a certain spot on the solar plexus later, he was out cold.

Slick never considered himself a praying man, but at the moment he was rethinking that position. He heard a loud bang from the down the hall before the floor rushed up to meet him. "What?"

A rope had bound his feet and legs together. The Bat stalked towards, slowly. "What do you want?"

"Information."

"Anything!" Slick tried to sit up. A razor sharp dart suddenly struck the floor next to him. He laid back down.

"Where's your boss?"

~B

Frenchy disliked using the telephone. He disliked it more when one of his underlings used one to contact him. "Yes? Wait, what?" He dropped the receiver in disbelief.

An hour later, Slick and Ricky entered Frenchy's room. The boss's calm demeanor made them both nervous. "Well?"

"Boss, we were wrong about the Bat!" Ricky blurted out.

"Oh?"

Slick stepped forward. "Yeah, well, you see, boss-"

"Spit it out man!" Frenchy's face was growing increasingly flushed.

"The Bat wants to join us!" Ricky grinned. Frenchy's color vanished.

"What?" His voice was little more than a horse whisper.

"Yeah, we told him everything!" Ricky continued to blab. Slick tried to silence him, but quickly decided to take a few steps back and eyed the door.

"You did what?" Frenchy's voice rose to a shriek.

The window exploded as a dark figure swung inside. "Blake, your time is up!" Slick ducked and bolted for the door.

Frenchy drew a sawed off shotgun from under the table. The Bat's cape fluttered. Thick dark smoke suddenly filled the room. Slick barreled through the door and slammed it shut behind him. "Forget this!" He ran pell-mell down the hall. He rounded the corner, only to trip over a small wire placed at ankle level. He hit the filthy carpet hard and didn't move.

Inside, the Bat ducked as Frenchy emptied both barrels. Ricky took half a load of shot to his gut as he staggered about blindly in the fog. "Come out blast you!" Frenchy coughed as he opened the breech and fumbled with the spent shells. A swooping figure appeared before him. Frenchy screamed as he felt gloved hands clamp around his neck. Disoriented, he felt a jab at his knees, forcing him to the side and through the only window in the room.

Coughing, Frenchy cleared his eyes as he saw the street below. "What do you want?"

"Confess!" The Bat's voice echoed in the smoke filled hell behind him.

"Never!" Frenchy shouted.

"Very well." The Bat released her grip. Frenchy Blake was suspended for roughly a second before he fell.

Before his foot completely cleared the windowsill, the Bat reached into her belt and withdrew a small grappling gun of her own design. Aiming it carefully, she fired the hook and line, ensnaring it around Blake's ankle. His screams continued as she drew him back up. "Confess!"

"You can't do this! I have rights!" Blake cried as she dropped him again. He fell three stories before the rope went taut.

"Confess, or I keep doing this until either my arm gets tired or your leg gives out."

Motioning to drop him, Frenchy held up his hands. "Alright, I give up!"

~G

James Gordon always liked the early morning. The possibility that the rising sun symbolized always made him hopeful. His optimism came crashing down when the desk sergeant burst into his office. "Commissioner!"

"What is it?"

"Sir, on the roof, I-" the younger man sputtered until Gordon shook him.

"Spit it out man!"

"Sir, someone dropped off Frenchy Blake and his gang, plus all their loot!"

"What?"

Rushing up the stairs, Gordon gasped when he saw the men bound and gagged. At their feet was a large pile of jewels and a small typed note.

Gordon carefully picked it up and unfolded it. "Inside Blake's coat is a signed confession, clearly proving him guilty of all the thefts and proving me innocent. Expect more delivers to come, signed the Bat."

Gordon crumpled the note up. His mutterings were strictly under his breath and away from the ears of the nosey rookies.

~W

Elisabeth Wayne discreetly smiled as she read the morning edition. "So Alfred, I wonder what Commissioner Gordon thought of my delivery?"

"I can't hesitate to guess." Alfred tucked the worn and smoke damaged suit under his arm and exited the room. Privately, he wished Mistress Elizabeth would put more thought into the condition of her equipment. He stashed the costume in a specially prepared dumbwaiter and sent it away.

~E

Elizabeth stretched and looked herself over in the mirror. "A few bruises, but nothing I can't blame on polo." She folded up the paper and put it next to a small stack of articles. "Getting quite a history here." Her eyes fell on a small picture of her parents.

"I know this probably isn't what you had in mind for me." She picked up the photo. "But Gotham is being destroyed from within. I can't stop, no matter the cost, not as long as innocent people suffer."

The morning was bright and, for a second, everything seemed perfect. Elizabeth placed the photo back on the dresser and planned her day. Picking up the recent edition of Aviation, she couldn't help but notice the cover. A long figure stood proudly before a fantastic machine. "Is this the future of air travel?" the cover asked.

Elizabeth made a note of the designer. "Norman Lowell and his new auto-gyro?" She looked at the contraption. It was a sleek design; an airplane crossed with a large propeller overhead, making it capable of a vertical take-off and landing. "Hmm, this might have possibilities…"

The end

This tale was based on "Frenchy Blake's Jewel Gang" which was first published Detective Comics#28 (June 1939). Credits are to Bill Finger (script) and Bob Kane.

And now the fan mail

From Wolvmbm

_Here we go again._

This was a nice retelling of Batman's first appearance in comics from a female Point of view.

I must say though when are we to meet the Robin of this world or a team up with Superwoman ?  
  
_All this plus, the Catwoman or Catman of this world within the next issue._

Please keep up the good work on making these great stories as they are all an interesting read

Thanks! Well, as you can see, Mr. Blake was a cat burglar, but hardly a cat man. That doesn't mean there won't be a certain feline themed fellow showing sooner or later though…

From n9voc

_Great stuff! I love your gender swapping "take" on some of our most beloved heroes. How you keep more than one series going (as you are) and still write at the high quality level that you do is a mystery to me. However, I am very glad you are gifted with this talent. Excellent!  
'nuff said_

It's a mystery to me too pal.

From Black Capricorn Day

_Wow! Loved it! The 1940s setting was really interesting, especially considering it's based on an actual DC comic from that time period. It was great to see some expressions from that time period - would really like to see more of that to get more of the "feel" of the period. Also, having the Bat as a woman is a really cool idea, especially considering it's the 1940s and as a "dame," she probably wouldn't be able to become a police officer, even if she wanted to. I'm hoping to see reinterpretations of other characters. Write more!_

Will do! Right now though, I am a bit swamped (3 DC, 5 Marvel plus miscellaneous) so don't expect any new series for a while.

From Tiffani

_That's a great Bat-girl or woman story. I kind of prefer the purple  
costume myself, but a gray and dark blue one sounds cool as well. :)  
Excellent work, as always. Thanks for sharing_

Well, the original bat suit was black, gray, and purple. I went more for the stealth approach.

Darci, I'm afraid I'm running out of room, but I hope I've answered your questions

Be here next time when The Bat Meets Doctor Death!

Upcoming titles:

Action Comics#3-The Blakely Mine Disaster!

Sensation Comics#4-The Baroness Returns!


	3. The Bat Meets Dr Death

The Bat

The Bat Meets Dr. Death

July brought with it a record heat wave. Criminals grew bolder in the sweltering humidity. Above the teaming masses, in a small apartment nestled deep within the gleaming skyscrapers was a man named Doctor Karl Hellfern.

He used the named "Dr. Hellfern" when he was with colleagues, but since his dismissal from the profession that occurred infrequently. To himself and his servants, he was addressed as Dr. Death. He planned on making his informal name formally known in short order.

Before him were two men, he never bothered to learn their names. They were simple gunsels hired from the street. He didn't keep them around for their wit. Beside him was a man equal to three. A towering Indian named Jabah he met while researching in India. "Gentlemen, before my great plan can move forward, there are some aspects that must be addressed."

"Yeah boss?"

"The Bat. Who is it? What is it?"

"Gee boss, I don't know. The Blake Gang swore he was seven feet tall and had magic!"

Dr. Death lowered his newspaper. The goon shut his mouth. "That might very well be true, but we have to remove this piece from the board before my plan go forward."

"Aren't you going to use that pollen stuff on him?"

"No you fool! It took me months to cultivate what I have. The exposure must be instantaneously or else the pollen loses its effectiveness. I have rationed it out exactly, and there isn't enough for another victim. No, you must handle this." He scribbled down an address. "Be at this apartment tomorrow night. Now go!"

The next day

Elizabeth Wayne drew back her arm. The bow bent back as she aimed carefully. She let go of the drawstring as Alfred stepped outside. "Milady, there is an article is today's paper I thought requires your attention."

She took the folded newspaper. Scanning the personal section, she read over a small box near the top of the page. "Bat. Pick up a letter for Mr. John Jones at this address. Life or death."

She handed the paper back to Alfred. "Sounds like a challenge."

Later that afternoon

At the counter of the main post office, a heavyset man strolled inside. "My name is John Jones," he spoke gruffly, "You have a letter for me, right?"

Back outside, the man went on a journey that involved taking two taxis, walking several blocks, and ducking through numerous alleyways before stepping into a red sports car. Elizabeth Wayne was behind the wheel. "Did you get it?"

Alfred peeled off the heavy latex from his face and removed the cotton from his mouth. "Yes, Milady." He opened the letter and read it aloud as she drove. "A rather odd thing this."

"What does it say?"

"Bat-come alone to the following address tonight. I intend to murder a man and you are the only one who can save him."

"That, Alfred, sounds like the perfect set up for a trap."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Why, be there on time. What else?"

~B

When the sun went down, Elizabeth Wayne put on her working clothes. Spread out on the bed before her were her tools. Her belt, with its many compartments, lay open as she gathered her equipment.

"The batarangs are a plus." She folded several of the sharpened throwing darts and placed them inside the belt. "Might need to escape in a hurry, so I'd better take these bombs." Scooping up a handful of small globes, she gently placed them inside a cushioned compartment. She admired the work that went into the globes. At a glance, a simple thing, not unlike a marble, but if it hit the floor with enough force, it would break and react to the air. The chemicals inside would instantly turn into a thick black vapor, allowing her to escape undetected.

Beside the smoke bombs was a tightly coiled rope. Her company had devised it for the army, but she was keeping a few models for herself. The rope was thin, but capable of handling a tremendous amount of weight. With the gas gun attached at her side, she could repel down any surface in the city.

Thus armed, she slipped on the cowl. She was no longer Elizabeth Wayne, millionairess. Before the night sky stood the Bat, scourge of the underworld.

~B

It was a short drive. Sitting in the back of the dark roadster, the Bat prepared herself mentally for what she was about to do. Alfred had insisted on driving her. He parked the car a few blocks away from the address and she had scaled a fire escape to the roof.

Through a pair of micro-binoculars, she spied on the apartment. It was a modest affair, right in the middle of a decent area. She took careful aim and fired her wire gun. Swinging through the night sky, she landed softly on the terrace.

Crouching, she slipped a lock pick from her belt, only to push the door open. "A trap?"

The lights from the apartment flared, blinding her. Gunfire shattered the French door. She dived behind a large love seat for cover as she removed a small handful of smoke bombs from her belt.

She felt no relief when the bullets stopped. She heard distinct shuffling on carpet, indicating her would-be killers were moving in for the kill. Tightening her fist, she tossed the pellets at the wall. They erupted and filled the apartment with smoke. A highly accented voiced cursed in English before firing.

A white bolt of pain seared through her. Her right arm went numb. "Stupid, should have checked before turning my back on them!"

Not checking on the damage, she snagged her wire gun and leapt over the side. Using only one arm was a bad idea, as her shoulder screamed in protest as she tightened her grip, giving the mechanism more slack. She dropped like a stone.

Waves of pain almost made her pass out. She was dimly aware of releasing her grip. Crashing through a series of awnings slowed her down enough not to shatter her spine when she hit the pavement. Hands were on her in an instant.

~B

Alfred had been a medic during the last war. His medical skill had been a key factor in his hiring by Dr. Thomas Wayne, in fact. When he saw the Bat plummet thirty feet, he put the car in drive and raced to her. Hustling her into the car, he sped off before the killers could see him.

Once down a few side streets, he pulled over and climbed into the back. "Right, let's see the damage."

He dashed a small amount of alcohol over his hands before opening up his medical kit. Elizabeth was sitting up and facing him. Deftly using a scalpel, he sliced away the costume and examined the wound. "Not bad Milady, just a little nick."

The wound was small. The bullet had grazed her, enough to damage the suit and draw blood, but not enough to leave any lasting damage on any nerves or arteries. "Although if it had been over half an inch, I doubt we'd be having this conversation."

Pressing wadded cotton over the wound to staunch the flow of blood, he readied a small needle and thread. "This should hold until we get to Dr. Thompkins."

"Thank you Alfred." Elizabeth gritted her teeth as he stitched her up. "It was a set-up." She settled back in the seat as he climbed back into the front.

"Oh dear. What shall we do next?" He started the motor and sped down the street.

"I'm going to find out who that apartment that belonged to; might give me a clue as to who put that ad." She slipped back and passed out.

~J

Jabah stood before Dr. Death. The two other men hung back in the living room. They had already been berated for their failure. Jabah never liked the house.

The house they were in was a small bungalow just outside the city limits. Dr. Death had rented it to work on his poisons, leaving the apartment in the city for business. "You fool! You say there was no body?" Death clutched an empty test tube so tightly it cracked. "This could spoil all my plans!"

"Master please, I know I shot the Bat. If that madman isn't dead, surely he would be too wounded to stop you."

This mollified Death somewhat. "True, but we must still be careful." Death picked up a small syringe and a glass bulb. He gave Jabah a picture as the East Indian rolled up his sleeve. "That is the photo of your next target. John P. Van Smith has refused to pay my blackmail. After I've inoculated you, expose him to the deadly pollen and report back here. Go out the back way." Jabah nodded and left, the deadly item wrapped carefully in his pocket.

~B

The next day was eventful. Dr. Leslie Thompkins didn't appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night, but a quick retelling (with a few edits) of the accident got him to cooperate. Elizabeth was conscious enough to remove enough of her costume to avoid questions.

Alfred was right; the wound was more superficial than anything. Regardless, she had to take it easy. Easy for her, however, had a different meaning.

She had been pouring over photos. "I heard three men, one with an East Indian accent." She stood up. "Didn't Van Smith at the club mention something about being threatened by an Indian a few weeks ago?"

"You think there might be a connection?" Alfred had her uniform patched up.

"It might be nothing, but then again, it could be worth a look."

~B

That night, Elizabeth played it cool. Her shoulder was still bandaged, so she ventured forth in the guise of Elizabeth Wayne. Alfred was at the wheel of a large limo, parked outside the Azure Club, one of the trendier nightspots in Gotham.

"What shall we do now?"

"Observe Alfred, observe."

Parked across the street, they waited a few moments before two figures emerged. One of them, a nervous looking man in a rumpled tuxedo, moved into the light cast by the streetlights. He was clutching a briefcase tightly to his chest. Van Smith made a habit of bringing his work with him, even when out drinking. The other was a massive fellow. His dress was Western, but his features were classically Eastern. He was carrying a small vial in front of him.

Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat. "Move!" The man's voice, audible even from many feet away, convinced her. He was one of the men who shot at her. The car's lights flared to life as they picked up momentum. The Indian man barely had time to toss the vial away as they crashed into him.

He hit the hood with a sickening thud, leaving a large dent in the metal. The vial was smashed to pieces on the ground, the purple powder inside blowing away in the evening breeze. Van Smith let out a high-pitched scream and fled.

Elizabeth flung open her door and marched towards the injured man. Throwing her mink shawl back over her shoulder, she fumed, as she looked him over. "I say, what the deuce were you thinking man? This is a ten thousand dollar automobile, what were you doing shambling about at night?"

Jabah righted himself and glared at her. "I was merely minding my own business when you hit me!" He glanced (a sight picked up by Elizabeth) at the site were the vial broke. He was thankful the pollen inside the capsule was a low dosage…

"Oh, I suppose we'll have to inform the police, won't we?" She noticed more details about him. The tell-tell bulge under his left armpit told her he had a gun. The nervous licking of the lips as he saw the strange powder fly away. "Poison, but what kind? He's scared, but not panicking." She looked around the street. A crowd of onlookers was gathering. "Oh bother, there's never a policeman around when you need one!"

Jabah paled. "Uh, no police! I'm fine, really, and it was I who was at fault!" He turned and limped away. Elizabeth watched him walk a distance before getting back in the car.

"Follow him. If I'm right, he'll take us right to the ringleader of this thing."

~J

Jabah winced as he sat down. The two other members of the gang, whose names he never even bothered to learn, were dead. They were both slumped over a sofa, their bodies racked and contorted in inhuman positions. Their faces were bloated and disfigured.

"Such is the price of failure Jabah." Dr. Death emerged from his laboratory. His face darkened when he saw his servant's state of dress. "You didn't get the money, did you?"

~B

Elizabeth changed in the back seat. "Stay back Alfred, and keep an eye out on the house. I think the commissioner might be interested once I'm finished." Emerging into the night, the Bat crept through the underbrush.

Slipping around to the back of the house, she spied the Indian man arguing with a small man dressed in a white lab coat. Uncoiling a few yards of rope and a lock pick, she slowly opened the window after tying the end of the rope into a lariat.

Once both men were turned around, she tossed in a gas pellet. The blinding smoke quickly filled the room as she dived inside. "Give it up!" She put on a small gasmask just as the Indian fired his gun.

~D

Dr. Death gagged as he flailed about. Hitting a button at his elbow dropped several ropes from the ceiling. "Jabah, lure the Bat over here!" He coughed as he groped blindly for the window.

With her gasmask, the Bat could see clearer in the smoke than the other two. Snatching several of the ropes, she lashed them and her own around Jabah's shoulders and hands. Leaping away, she saw Dr. Death pull a lever, opening a trapdoor under her and Jabah's feet.

The Bat could only stare as the larger man's mass strained the ropes, slipping through her knots and forming them into a makeshift noose. One of the loops around his neck jerked, and with a gag Jabah died.

"You'll never take me!" Dr. Death pulled a test-tube out of his coat. With maniacal laughter he threw the glass vial at a wall of chemicals. Fire erupted from the table and quickly spread to the rest of the lab. "Dr. Death can not die!"

Grabbing a fire extinguisher, he lunged at her. The Bat sidestepped the madman and flipped him to the ground. A trail of fire flowed across the floor and engulfed his legs. The man screamed as more chemicals exploded.

A heavy beam came crashing down, separating them as well as blocking off the door. Seeing no other option, the Bat jumped to safety through the window seconds before the flame weakened ceiling collapsed, burying Dr. Death under a ton of flaming debris. "So death claims Dr. Death." The Bat made her way back to the car. "Home Alfred, its been a long night."

The end

This tale was based on the story that was first published in Detective Comics#29 (July 1939). Credits are given to Bob Kane (art) with the story usually given to Gardner Fox and/or Bill Finger.

Be here next time for "The Return of Dr. Death!"

Fan mail

They Call me Bruce

Good work here fella. Glad to see more people are giving you credit for your work

Wolvmbm

Once again another great story and great introductions for the Commissioner and to the Batarangs and smoke bombs gadgets.

I must say that the Bat surely made a name for herself within the criminal underworld.

Please do keep up the good work upon such a great series as it would be interesting to see what other Bat-foes and Bat-tales you have planned for the future

Darci

_Thanks for an excellent update to the French Blake story from June 1939. I'm looking forward to your version of Detective Comics #29's Doctor Death story_

Tiffani

_I agree, great stuff. I enjoyed reading it.  
Thanks for sharing_.

And thanks to everyone who wrote in. The Bat doesn't seem as popular as Wonder Woman or Superwoman, but she still has some readers, right?

Upcoming issues

Sensation Comics#5-Wonder Woman VS the Octopus!

Action Comics#4-Superwoman plays football?


	4. The Return of Doctor Death

The Bat

The Return of Doctor Death!

Elizabeth Wayne was often given to deep thoughts. Sitting before the fireplace, she reflected on a small scar on her shoulder, given to her by minions working for the so-called Doctor Death. "Criminals seem to growing bolder. Perhaps the Bat needs to show them something to be afraid of."

She knew the madman had been trapped inside his burning lab. The police, however, could not find a body. "True, fire does destroy most things, but for some reason I can't help but feel Death is still among the living."

Had Elizabeth Wayne possessed clairvoyant capabilities, she might have had an answer to her statement. Across town, inside a small apartment, Doctor Death was still very much alive. The bandaged figure sitting in a chair might have stretched one's definition of alive.

"Mikhail!" The figure wheezed as he breathed deeply from an oxygen tank. "Mikhail!"

A towering Cossack entered the room. "Yes Master?"

"Did you complete my task?"

Mikhail grinned. "Indeed master. Mr. Jones is dead, your poison worked perfectly."

"As I knew it would." He scratched absently mindedly at his bandaged face. Jabah, his previous manservant, had not been so lucky in their last encounter with the Bat. The timely arrival of Mikhail prevented Death from dying in the blaze. Taking the broken and mangled remains of the East Indian man, Death had instructed Mikhail in the art of skin grafts. "Jabah, you were always loyal to me. Your final gift is one I almost regret in taking."

"Tell me, did anyone see you?"

"No master, I followed your instructions to the letter. When should we contact the widow?"

"Soon, very soon. If she follows my orders in the note you left, we should have her and her fortune within forty eight hours."

~The next morning

Elizabeth straightened her hat as she walked past the rusted gate. She saw in the obituaries that Mr. Reginald Jones had passed away. What the papers had failed to mention was the state he was in when he died.

He was purple. The coroner put the death down due to acute heart failure, but he couldn't explain the state of the body. "Poison, just like Doctor Death!" Elizabeth knew the Jones family through a few mutual friends. She knew Jones had been hit hard during the Depression, but she wasn't aware of just how bad.

She stepped over broken tiles and past overgrown weeds. She waited several minutes after knocking. Before she left in despair, the door finally opened. A white haired old matron peered out from behind the guard chain. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Jones? It's me, Elizabeth Wayne." She stuck her hand out. Mrs. Jones closed the door.

Before she could leave, or comment, the door reopened and she was ushered inside. "Come in! Come in!"

The interior of the house wasn't much better than the exterior. Dust covered whole patches of the walls. What few rooms she saw were barren. Directed to the sitting room, Elizabeth took a seat at simple table. "I heard about Reginald." Before she could continue, Mrs. Jones sighed.

"It's my fault." She began to cry. "It's all my fault!"

She took the older woman's hand. "Why do you say that?"

"Reginald was threatened before he died. We were receiving letters and phone calls, demanding money or… or" she began to sob.

Elizabeth placed her hand on the women's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell the police?"

"Reginald wanted to, but I told him no!" Her sobs grew louder. "We lost nearly everything in the crash, and I was so ashamed. I thought if the police became involved, then the public might know how we live!"

Elizabeth inwardly sighed. "So they murdered him for nothing. This is going to make my job harder."

"But we had something, if we had just sold the diamonds, we could have paid them want they wanted!"

"Wait, diamonds?" Elizabeth was puzzled. She remembered Mr. Jones having an affinity for diamonds, but given the present state of their living she wouldn't have guessed them still having anything of value.

"Reginald collected the blasted things." Mrs. Jones stopped crying. "Even with our money running and investments drying up he wouldn't part with them." She walked over to the single remaining portrait in the room. "I couldn't stand to part with them before, but now I'm not sure."

The talk continued into more pleasant avenues, but all the while Elizabeth memorized the house. "It looks like the Bat is going to be paying Mrs. Jones a visit!"

Later that night, it was the grim and silent figure of the Bat that scaled the outer wall. Dropping onto the lawn, the Bat moved quickly through the weeds and overgrown grass. She slowed her approach as she neared the large bay windows. "I hate to put the old dear through this, but I need to know if Mr. Jones was murdered by Doctor Death."

Removing a glass cutter from her belt, she carefully cut away one of the panels. Using a small amount of epoxy, she removed the piece of glass and put it aside. Reaching in through the hole, she unlocked the door and entered the house. "Doubtless they know of the diamonds, and if they don't hopefully after I finish they will be able to take them. I just hope they go back to their boss."

She moved without sound across the carpet. Gently removing the portrait from the wall, she eyed the safe carefully. Putting her ear to the cool metal, she listened to the tumblers as she turned the knob. She opened it without too much hassle. Inside were the diamonds Mr. Jones had spent his life collecting. "No bad, worth a small fortune at least!"

She scooped the stones out. "The uncut ones alone could repair this house, but I can see why they didn't sell them."

A shadow fell across the room. Dropping the stones, she darted behind the silken curtains. "Am I in luck?" She had meant to simply check to see if the diamonds were still there. If the burglar was working for Doctor Death, it would be easier to let him take the stones rather than fight him. She could simply follow back to his hideout and if he wasn't working for Death, it would be a simple matter to stop him and return the diamonds to Mrs. Jones.

A large brutish man stepped inside the room through the open door. He chuckled as he picked up the stones. "Must be my lucky day!"

A creaking on the stairs made them both pause. The man drew a long dagger and slowly backed out of the room. He was almost out the door when Mrs. Jones came in. "Oh!" She pointed a shotgun at the man.

"If he dies now, I won't know where his boss is!" the Bat reached into her belt and took out a small glass ball, filled with a special chemical. She threw at the wall near the older woman. Breaking open on impact, the chemical reacted to the air around it, creating a potent knockout gas. Mrs. Jones toppled over as the burglar slipped away.

Silently, after making sure Mrs. Jones was safe, the Bat followed after her prey. She spotted him running through the back alleys. Trailing him in her roadster, she stopped when he passed by a small pawn shop. He then turned and entered a boarding house across the street.

"Ivan Herd? He's a fence on the side." She used binoculars to peer into the shop. She saw no movement. "Maybe I was mistaken. I'll have to question him directly, and then I'll get the diamonds back."

Exiting the car, she climbed up the side of the building via the fire escape. Several floors up, she saw the same thug sitting on a bed. "Must be my lucky night." She jimmied the window open and slipped inside. Taking another glass ball from her belt, she broke it over the bed. "Hopefully I'll be gone before he wakes up." She began to search around the room.

"Mikhail? My Russian is a bit rusty, but I think I can translate." She skimmed over his mail and a few personal letters. "So, Doctor Death survived after all! This is not going to be easy."

As she poured over the letters and notes, she failed to see the larger Cossack stirring. He groggily looked around the room. "What's going on?"

She turned as he stumbled from the bed, knife in hand. "I'll kill you!"

Employing a judo toss, she flipped the bigger man over and made her way to the window. "Where's Death hiding?"

"I'll never talk!" He roared as he rushed her, swinging the blade like an expert. She ducked out the window and scrambled up the fire escape. His bulk slowing him down, Mikhail slowly made his way after her, cursing in Russian the entire time.

"I've got to lose this overgrown gorilla!" the Bat checked her belt. She only a few glass balls left, some rope, and some customized boomerangs Alfred jokingly called 'baterangs'. Taking one of the bat shaped pieces of metal and looping the rope around it, she wrapped it around the chimney.

Fastening the other end around herself, she jumped over the side. With her cape spread wide, the massive shadow of a bat covered Mikhail. The Cossack panicked and slashed madly at the shadows, losing his grip on the metal ladder.

He fell with a scream. He dropped through the air, crashing into a few clotheslines. He grasped blindly for support, but only managed to snag a few shirts hanging out to dry. The garments tore free. He hit the pavement with a sickening crack.

The Bat landed softly on the fire escape. "Blasted fool, I only meant to scare him!" She darted back up to the roof when lights turned on inside the hotel. Across the street, she saw a light turn on in Herd's pawn shop. "Maybe I can still salvage this night." She aimed a compacted wire gun at a chimney across the street and fired. A dart shot out and struck the masonry, embedding itself in the brick. A thin wire stretched tightly over the street. Hooking the gun to her uniform, she swung across the abyss.

She picked the lock on the rooftop door with ease. Making her way down the narrow steps, she stopped at the door with light under it. "It's open!" A frail old voice cried.

Opening the door, the Bat stepped inside. An old man, his wispy white hair almost floating around his head, sat at an old table. Hundreds of vases sat on almost every surface, each filled with dozens of fragrant flowers. The sweet smell almost overwhelmed her. Before him was a small collection of uncut diamonds. "Can I help you?"

"Ivan Herd?" the Bat made sure to cover her mouth. The fabric of her cape did wonders to disguise her voice.

"Yes?" Herd seemed unconcerned that a masked figure had entered his room. "Something I can do for you?"

"I'm looking for the diamonds that were stolen from the Jones's safe."

"Ah." Herd absently scratched his chin while one hand slipped under the table. She noticed his action. She rested one hand on her belt as the old man continued to sit.

She whipped a baterang into his hand as he drew a pistol from under the table. Herd howled in pain as he staggered up. A kick to the midsection forced him to the floor. The Bat stopped her assault when she noticed an odd feature; something seemed out of place on Herd's neck. "A mask?"

Reaching down, she tore away the loose flap of flesh, pulling away the false front and revealing the true face: "Doctor Death?"

Death looked the part. His flesh was a mottled mess of brown and green. He reeked of rot and sickness. He smiled; a ghastly sight enough, but his voice sent chills down her spine. "Yes, Death! The Death who can not die!"

The Bat looked down at the struggling figure with a mixture of pity and contempt. "Gangrene, the poor fool." She bound his wrists and ankles. Pocketing the diamonds, as she knew all too well the reputation of the average Gotham City policeman, she moved towards the window.

A crowd had gathered outside as the police loaded the dead body of Mikhail into an ambulance. Breaking the window with a chair, she pulled out a small flare and ignited it. The smoke attracted the attention of the people as she slipped out.

Moving up to another level, she quickly removed her cape and cowl. With a few tucks and twists of the fabric, it now resembled a skirt. The diamonds and mask were carefully stored inside a pocket; likewise the gloves and belt. A shirt taken from Herd's apartment easily covered the bat emblem. To any passerby, she was simply another resident of any number of apartments in the area.

Walking down the back stairs, she easily walked by the police and firemen rushing up through the shop. "Now, to get these stones back to their rightful owner!"

The newspapers had an exciting day. Doctor Death, when the authorities entered the apartment, gladly boasted of his schemes. He had been taken to the nearby Arkham Asylum, but the staff refused to comment on how long he would be among the living.

A lesser item, buried near the back, told the public a heart warming tale of an old woman's diamonds being returned to her by an anonymous source. Mrs. Jones gave no comment.

Elizabeth Wayne folded the newspaper and set it aside as Alfred brought her the morning mail. "A productive night mistress?"

"You could say that Alfred." Elizabeth's eyes fell on an envelope postmarked the day before. Reading the return address, her spirits sank. "A letter from Julius?"

"Julius Madison?" Alfred shared her shock. "But that boy hasn't contacted you in years!"

"The boy has become a man now Alfred." She hastily opened the letter. "And he wants to see me, to talk about our engagement?"

The end

This story was based on the story first published in Detective Comics#30 (August 1937), with credits to Gardner F. Fox (script), Bob Kane (pencils) and Sheldon Moldoff (backgrounds/letters). Copyright DC/Time Warner all rights reserved.

And as always, thanks to Darci for proofreading this.

Next time: The Bat VS the Monk

And now the letters

They Call Me Bruce

_Loved the chapter, nice original character _

Thanks!

From Darci

_Excellent re-envisioning of Detective Comics#29. I wonder, was there something in particular that drew you to this story? Gerry Conway also seems to have been inspired by it. He rewrote it as Batman#343 and Detective Comics#512 (March 1982). Can't wait for part 2!_

Well, the wait was long but I hope it was worth it. I was unaware of Conway's remake. As for what drew me, well, that is a bigger question. The short answer is that it is next Batman story, but the bigger answer is that I wanted to tackle some characters that don't appear as much.

From Tiffani

_Yeah, I agree, you did a great job on this story. Awesome work_

_Thanks for sharing_

And thanks to you (and everyone else) for reading!

Be sure to keep an eye out for the next tales of thrilling adventure

Sensation Comics#6-The Revenge of the Baroness

Action Comics#5-Superwoman VS the Dam


	5. The Bat and the Vampire

The Bat

The Bat VS the Vampire

Elizabeth Wayne was not used to being stood up. A letter had reached her several days ago from Julius Madison, begging to see her at precisely eight o'clock in the lobby of Julius's hotel. The ornate clock by the front desk rang out nine.

Standing up, she left the lobby and made her way towards the large revolving door. "Strange, Julius never missed an appointment before." Julius often referred to himself as her fiancé. The Madison and Wayne families were close, and it had been discussed of the two marrying, but Elizabeth always managed to put it on the back burner of her mind. "Do I tell him of my nocturnal activities?"

Once outside, she tightened the mink stole around her shoulders as she walked towards her car. Normally Alfred would pick up her up, but she wanted to see Julius alone. The sound of breaking glass made her stop.

Moving carefully around the corner, she slipped her hand into her purse. The folded metal of the batarang gave her some comfort. Basing the design on the boomerang used by the Bushmen of Australia, she slipped the specially designed weapon out and flipped it open.

Rounding the corner, she gasped as she saw the origin of the noise. Julius, glad only in his pajamas, stood over a cowering man, an ax in his hand. The window of a parked truck was smashed, no doubt due to a wild swing from Julius. The man, his bald head shining in the dim light, clutched a crucifix as he struggled to stand up.

Taking aim, Elizabeth threw the batarang. The sleek metal zipped through the air and struck Julius squarely in his neck. He staggered briefly before collapsing. Racing over to the scene, she pocketed the weapon as the older man crossed himself. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, yes my child." The man, dressed in the black suit of a priest, stood up. "It was most fortunate you arrived. Do you know this poor man?"

"Yes, I do." Elizabeth was trying to come up with a story. Would the old man press charges? How could she explain what happened?

The old man brushed himself off. "There is no time to explain. The forces of hell are coming sister, and I'm not sure if I can stop them alone." He pressed his crucifix into her hands. "Take this, please. I'm Father Green by the way."

Hefting Julius over his shoulders, Green pointed towards the street. "Do you have a car nearby? This young man needs medical attention, and I would like to avoid any police entanglement."

Elizabeth was silent only for a moment. "Of course, this way." She led him to her car. "What happened back there?"

Green ruefully shook his head. "An old man's pride. I should have known that devil would try to strike at men through a proxy, but I suppose I was too stubborn to believe it." He helped her load Julius into the back. "He should be fine, with little memory of this night, but I would stress that you get him a doctor and see if he's lost any blood." Green glanced around the street. "The night isn't safe. Get him to safety and stay behind locked doors until morning." He took off down the street, which suddenly seemed deserted. Elizabeth, still holding the crucifix, declined to follow.

The next morning, Elizabeth summoned Dr. Trent to Wayne Manor. Julius had spent a fitful night in one of the guest rooms. Elizabeth sat at his bedside as Trent, an old friend of her father, examined the young man. "Hmm, blood pressure's down, the pallor of the skin suggests anemia; tell me, what do you know of his actions?"

"Only that he seemed dazed." She didn't mention the attack on the priest. It wasn't in any paper. "Doctor, what is wrong with him?"

"Hypnosis, no doubt." Trent snapped his black bag shut. It was then Elizabeth noticed something odd about the doctor. His actions were stiff, his replies mechanical.

"What do you suggest?"

"Travel, travel to Paris via a cruise." Trent seemed to be struggling with himself. "Then from there, Hungary the land of werewolves!" Trent collapsed into his seat.

Elizabeth jumped to his side. Undoing his tie, she noticed a series of small wounds around his neck. "Like something out of a story!" Summoning Alfred, they helped the doctor downstairs.

"What does this mean mistress Elizabeth?"

"I'm not sure old friend. Whoever controlled Julius's actions last night must have gotten to the doctor somehow, but why?"

"And why the markings around his throat?" Alfred bandaged the man's neck carefully.

"That is what I'm going to find out." Elizabeth picked up her purse. Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Alfred, I need you to stay here and look after these two. I'm going into town to find out more about the other player in this little drama."

Finding an exact priest in Gotham proved to be harder than expected. Whoever Father Green was, he was not attached to any church in Gotham and the few priests who recalled the name swore the man was dead or not worth asking about.

It was near dusk when she found herself in front a small cottage on the outskirts of town. She felt out of place with her brightly colored roadster and expensive clothes, but then again she wanted to cultivate that kind of air. People tended to less guarded when they fought they were talking to a flighty socialite.

After waiting several minutes after her first knock, she considered breaking in when the door opened slightly. "You!"

"Yes, can I come in?" Elizabeth was yanked inside as Green slammed the door shut. The priest bolted the door with a heavy iron bar.

"I apologize for the atmosphere, but I have been stalked across three continents. I have become rather paranoid."

Elizabeth glanced around the cottage. Its one room was filled with papers and books. The curtains, drawn tight, were covered in religious symbols of faiths long dead. "I had a question. Why was that young man attacking you?"

"Hmm?" Green busied himself tending to a fire. "Sorry, but do you mean the attack from last night? I've had so many attempts on my person I tend to lose track of them."

"Yes, the young man at the hotel. Why was he trying to kill you?"

"He was a victim of hypnosis. A foul creature implanted an idea in his mind, forcing him to kill me to get me out of the way."

"But why?" She was tempted to write him off as a delusional, but the man's manner was calm. He was scared, that much she could tell, but he had the look of someone who faced death and worse.

"To silence me, getting me out of the way so his evil is free." Green sipped from a teacup that had been left on the mantle. "You are going to think me mad, but the evil I speak of is the undead."

"Vampires? But this is the twentieth century; I thought vampires were passé, like ghosts."

"Those are real too, but the vampire's greatest strength is the power of doubt. People refuse to believe in him, thus leaving him free to act."

"Again, you refer to 'he and him'. Who exactly are you talking about, and what did he do to Julius?"

"The evil I speak of may not have a name. I know he goes by dozens of aliases. Presently he calls himself the Monk, but his true name has been lost to time." Green sipped his tea as he gazed into the fire. "He sits, like a spider in a web of sin, allowing poor mortals to wander into his clutches. He picked that poor boy only because he was close to where I was staying, but since that failed I have no doubt that he will find another use for him." He turned his gaze towards her. "Tell me, is the young man rich?"

"Somewhat; he is presently trying to find his own way in the world, but his father is well off." Green processed the information.

"Then he will no doubt try to lure the boy away and use his money to fund his evil operations."

"Wait, a vampire that uses money?" Elizabeth tried to keep the cynicism out of her tone, but she failed.

"This evil knows the modern world. If he can not find a use one way, he will use him in another." Green stopped and turned around. "The boy! Where is he now?"

"I left him with my man Alfred."

"Blast, I should have followed you!" Green grabbed his coat. "Hurry, you must take me to him before the moon rises!" The sun was already dipping below the horizon.

Elizabeth slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. Green jumped into the car as she sped off. "What are you going to do?"

"The boy must be exorcised of the evil's control! Since he failed to kill me, the boy will be drawn to the evil. From there, I shudder to think of his fate."

Elizabeth's mind was in a whirl. "Dr. Trent was hypnotized and told Julius to go to Paris." She glanced at Father Green. "But I dare not drag him along with me; how can I get him out of the way?" She flipped a panel down in the dashboard and pulled out a receiver. "A fancy way of staying in contact with my employees." Elizabeth assured Green as she twisted a few dials.

"Alfred, come in please."

The English's butler usually reserved tones were frantic. "Mistress Elizabeth, oh thank heaven!"

"What's wrong?"

"Dr. Trent went berserk and kidnapped Master Julius! They tied me up, in fact I was about to radio you when you called."

"Stay there old friend. We'll be there within five minutes."

True to her word, the bright blue roadster screeched to a halt before the large doors of Wayne Manor. Father Green, white knuckled and flustered, almost slid out of the car. "You had the boy here? Why wasn't he taken to a hospital?"

"Julius is an old friend, and I wished to avoid any publicity. Dr. Trent has been my family doctor for years, and I felt it wise."

"Dr. Trent was acting most peculiar." Alfred filled them in as he led them inside. "I noticed the strange bite marks around his neck, then he" Green interrupted him.

"Bite marks? Good heaven, he must have suspected you would call that man rather than go to a hospital. He meant for you to aide me, but why?"

Elizabeth said little, but inwardly she grew disturbed. "Could he be right? Was that letter nothing more than ploy?"

"The doctor suggested a trip to Paris, correct?" Elizabeth dropped the tidbit. Alfred confirmed as he helped Green to a chair.

"The boy must be going to Paris to meet with the master, but we'll never catch him now!"

"I wouldn't say that. Alfred, see to Father Green's needs." Elizabeth marched towards the direction of the study.

"Wait, where are you going?" Green called to her.

"I'm going to make some calls. I am not without my resources Father. As I said, Alfred will see to you, and you can aide him in finding Dr. Trent." She rounded the corner then broke into a run.

Once inside the study, she locked the doors. Hurrying over to the old grandfather clock that stood firmly against the wall, she flipped open the glass covering and moved the hands to the midnight hour. The clock slid aside on hidden rollers. Dashing into the opening, she was halfway down the stairs before the clock slid back into place.

The caverns under Wayne Manor had been used from smuggling weapons to rebels to hiding runway slaves. It had taken time, and no small amount of money, but Elizabeth had turned the caverns into a massive complex designed to aide her in fighting injustice.

Stripping her evening clothes off, she quickly dressed in the uniform of the Bat. Once attired, she descended into the lower levels of the cave. A small car sat on a track. "I really am going to have to thank that engineer." She took her seat and manned the controls.

The small car roared to life and raced down the track. Within seconds she was well away from the mansion and halfway across the estate. A minute later, she came gently to a stop. Digging a tunnel from the cave to another cave convinced Alfred she was insane, but the finished product changed his mind.

At first she seemed to be inside another cave, same as the main one save for a few differences. One pull of a lever later, however, and the generator hummed to life. Before her on a small platform was a marvel of modern engineering. An auto gyro, designed by the great Normal Lowell, sat at the ready.

Taking Lowell's basic design, Elizabeth (through a series of dummy businesses) had commissioned a specific vehicle. Sleek, black, and sporting a front similar to a bats head, the newly dubbed 'bat-gyro' was a scientific achievement of almost unparallel proportions.

Climbing into the cockpit, the Bat lowered a set of goggles over her eyes as the platform raised itself. The hanger, formerly an old barn at the edge of the Wayne estate, opened its doors as the gyro rolled out into the free night. "There's only one ship bound toward Paris this week, and if I hurry I can find it before it gets too far away!"

The steady hum of the gyro's motor drowned out the Bat's thoughts as she flew at a low attitude. Scanning the radio bands, she picked up the ocean liner's location and flew out to sea. A few locals would later swear they saw a giant bat swooping out of the sky.

A quick radio call to the boat earned her clearance. Claiming engine trouble, she landed on the ship's deck without incident. Feeling something behind her, the Bat turned around. A figure stepped into the pale moonlight.

Clad in a blood red monk's robe and hood adorned with skull and crossbones, the figure seemed to stare right through her. "So, you are the mortal whelp who interferes?" the voice was raspy, yet seemed to roar in her ears. The accent was implacable.

"Where is Julius Madison?" She felt a pang of fear in her chest. Whoever or whatever this man was, she found herself unable to stare directly at him.

"Ah, you thought to find him on this boat? No my child, he is not here. I have arranged for…other transport. He is in Paris by now, but I'm sure he would enjoy company." The Monk stepped closer. She could feel the blood in her ears. "Join us; I'm sure you would fit with my family. Isn't that what you want?" A gnarled hand, thin and bony, emerged from the folds of the robes.

Her throat tightening, the Bat felt around her belt. Pulling out two batarangs, she quickly held them up before her. The Monk laughed. "You think those weapons will have any effect on me?"

Unfolding them, the Bat crossed them together. The Monk recoiled with a hiss. "Blasted mortal, you can't hold against me forever! You and all mortals will be mine!" A heavy fog rolled in, enveloping the ship.

Within seconds the fog vanished, leaving the Bat alone on the deck. Climbing back into the gyro, she took off towards home. Sweat ran down her cowl as she flew back to the manor.

The next day, Elizabeth Wayne found herself in Paris. A quick phone call got her a private plane, along with Alfred and Father Green. Green hadn't asked where she disappeared to, but he hadn't pressed or asked when she broke into a cold sweat when telling them where they had to go. There had been a great deal of news regarding the ship she had visited. It had sailed into France with nearly the entire ship dead. The papers were reporting it as a case of plague, but Elizabeth knew the truth.

Getting squared away at the hotel, Elizabeth sat down before the priest. "Tell me everything. How does one fight a monster?"

Green sighed and opened a small black case. "Vampires are not as easy to kill as the movies suggest. Some can be killed with stakes through the heart, yes, but some can only be stopped by running water. Others can be stopped by pure metal. Some can't be killed at all, only contained."

"So, which one is the enemy we're facing?"

"That I'm not sure." Green sighed. "In truth I'm not even sure of his real name." Green stared out the window, but it was clear he wasn't seeing the city. "A blood thirsty warlord, a cruel plantation owner, a curious shipping magnate, in truth he might be all three or none at all. I know he adorns himself in red. His followers call him the Monk."

"Followers?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Legions, but I dare not guess as to how many there exactly are. No doubt they know of our location and plans by now."

Alfred appeared at the door, his face pale. "Mistress, this came for you." He held out a small box.

Elizabeth opened it. Under the lid were the words 'Join us' scrawled in a crude pen, with an address neatly printed on a card pinned to the velvet interior. Inside the box was a severed finger.

Elizabeth and Father Green arrived at the townhouse just after sunset. Alfred had opted to stay behind at the hotel. "Are you ready for this?" Green tightened his grip on his cross. His pockets sloshed with vials filled with holy water.

"Well, considering I've never walked into a vampire's lair before, I think I'm as ready as I can be." Elizabeth brought her costume with her. "No sense in exposing my self to Green, and it's pretty obvious that these fiends know who I am."

The front door was unlocked. Inky blackness greeted them. Green fished a flashlight from his coat and shined the light inside. It didn't do much against the dark.

"Stay with me." Green marched forward, but as they crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut. Blazing light blinded them as a red robed figure appeared on a balcony.

"Greetings!" The Monk stretched out his hands in welcome. "Enter freely!"

"Monster!" Green tossed a vial of holy water, but a bullet shattered the glass before it cleared his fingers.

"I've taken precautions fool, but I grow weary of this game. If the mortal whelp is what you desire, he lies hidden behind one of the doors below me. Choose the correct one and all three of you may leave. Choose poorly and suffer. Good bye." The Monk stepped backwards, hovered was the better word, and vanished behind a curtain.

"Careful, he's a tricky one." Green held up a hand. The door directly in front of them rattled.

"Should we try the others?" Elizabeth whispered before the door to the left exploded. Green was struck senseless by a chunk of the door as Elizabeth rolled to the side. A massive ape lumbered into the room.

The animal roared with a chest rattling cry and narrowed its eyes on the pair of humans. Slipping a batarang into her hand, Elizabeth aimed at the beast's neck. The projectile bounced off the thick neck with no damage.

Eyeing a hanging rope, Elizabeth dashed towards the wall. Rolling under an outstretched paw, she jumped, bounding off the opposing wall and snagging the rope. Scrambling up the thick hemp cord, she slipped another batarang out of her pocket and hacked through the fibers.

Landing on the ape's broad back, she quickly threw the rope piece over the monster's head and wrapped it around the thick neck. With a mighty pull, she tightened the rope, sending the beast into a rage. The ape, maddened with pain, tried to throw her free.

Elizabeth dug her boots into the thick black fur, helping her stay on the creature as it pitched forward. Running full tilt into one of the columns that dotted the hall, it dislodged the large pillar and collapsed in a heap.

Climbing off the animal, Elizabeth staggered back towards Father Green, who was slowly coming around. "We still have two doors left. Care to try your luck?"

A muffled cry brought her attention to the door on the right. Carefully opening the heavy door, Elizabeth sighed in relief when she saw Julius tied to a chair. "Julius!"

Untying him, with Father Green standing close with a cross and holy water, she embraced the dazed man. "What the deuce happened?" Julius stared at the chaos around them.

"It's a long story and I'll explain what I can on the trip home."

The plane ride over was uneventful but filled with questions. Julius had no memory of the past week, but he seemed unconcerned. "It's strange, the last thing I remember was being at a party in Budapest, then seeing you."

Father Green was silent for most of the trip. He hadn't asked how Elizabeth took care of the ape and she hadn't volunteered the information. After the plane landed and the four of them were back on the ground, Green blurted out: "I had that devil in my sights and I failed to capture him!"

"Well Father, we did rescue an innocent man, and with the police presence in France, I doubt the Monk will be able operate in that country again."

"True, but we don't know where his lair is." Green sighed and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. "You've done a good job Ms. Wayne, but for your own sake I ask that you stop. This creature is far more deadly than anything you've ever encountered before." Green stepped away and vanished into the crowd before Elizabeth could stop him.

"That's where you're wrong Father Green. The Monk is evil, and I will put a stop to his evil, no matter what!"

The end

This story was based largely on "Batman vs. Vampire, part 1", which was first published in DetectiveComicsvol.1#31(September 1939). Credits to Gardner F. Fox (script), Bob Kane and Sheldon Moldoff (pencils and inks).

Fan mail

From Darci

_I haven't read Detective Comics#30 (or if I did I forgotten it), but having the Bat open up the Jones' safe to make it easier for Mikhail seems an odd choice. I assume that's what Gardner Fox wrote in the original. I was expecting the Bat to eavesdrop on Mikhail blackmailing Mrs. Jones and then tailing him. It seems we might meet Julius Madison in the next issue. That story was also one Gerry Conway retold (in Batman#349 and 350 and Detective Comics#517)._

I was going with the original tale, yes, but also the Bat wanted to make things easier for Mikhail so she could follow him to his hideout. Also, a thousand thanks for proofreading this.

Be here next time for the conclusion of the Bat Vs the Vampire!

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	6. In the Lair of the Vampire

The Bat

"In the Lair of the Vampire!"

Nestled deep within the Carpathian Mountains, a large winged figure moved silently between the trees. Moving into the moonlight, the Bat pulled a pair of binoculars from her belt and scanned the narrow mountain pass below. "Father Green's information about the Monk's network was correct, but I have to be careful."

Resting for a minute, the Bat took a moment to look back at the strangeness of the past few days. Her would-be fiancé, Julius Madison, was resting back in Paris with Father Green. The priest had insisted on coming along but the Bat managed to veto the older man's plans. She knew from the priest that a high ranking member of the Monk's organization would be passing through the countryside to rendezvous with her master. Her thoughts were interrupted when a stage coach came roaring through the pass.

Climbing to the nearest branches, the Bat crouched and waited. As the coach neared, she leapt from her perch and spread her cape. The sight was enough to startle the driver, who threw away the reins and dived off the coach.

"Driver, what is the meaning of this?" A richly accented voice demanded from within the rocking vehicle. "Why are you going so fast?"

The Bat snagged the reins and pulled sharply. The horses, trained as they were, slowed to a halt. The Bat waited as the coach door was flung open and the irate passenger stormed out. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Dala, I presume?" The Bat glared at the woman. Despite the dust, Dala stood as a pale figure in the moonlight. Her face was pale as alabaster, with hair black as the night around them. The only colorful things about her were her lips. Twin slits of red in the moonlight.

"You're rather fancy for a highway bandit but I have little money."

Closing her cape around her, the Bat pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "It's not money I'm after. Hold out your hands." Dala offered her slender wrists without comment as the Bat slapped the cuffs on her. "Walk in front of me and don't try anything. " She poked a batarang into Dala's back for emphasis.

Hustling her to a rented car, the Bat drove like mad back to the hotel. Renting under an assumed name, the Bat and Alfred had set up a small headquarters in the top floor. Entering via the service elevator, the Bat ushered Dala into the room. The woman had been unearthly quiet for the trip. She said nothing, and despite the Bat's straining she heard nothing else; no humming, no breathing, and not even the material in her dress or the car seat moving.

As Dala entered the darkened room, the Bat struck a match and lit the nearby lantern, casting a harsh yellow glare about the room. Dala hissed and snapped her handcuffs when the Bat directed the lanterns' glare at a large mirror that hung over the bed.

Dala cast no reflection.

The Bat placed the lamp down as Alfred entered the room. For his mistress's safety, he wore a simple mask as well as a large crucifix around his neck. "What do you want of me?" Dala swore.

"The one you call master."

Dala spat at her words. "My master? I would gladly give him to you. I have no love for that monster." She crossed her arms and seemed much smaller. "He damned me ages ago. I'll help however I can." Dala raised her eyes to Alfred and spoke softer. "I want to help. What do you wish of me?"

The Bat put herself between the pair. "Lead me to him, tonight."

"And fight him in the dark? You have bravery human, but not much common sense."

The Bat grinned. "I have plenty of both but I'd rather face him now. Don't some vampires turn into regular corpses in the daytime? How could I tell the difference?"

"A good point and besides, the master has filled his castle with dozens of decoy bodies. It would take you weeks to find him but I know where he sleeps."

"Excellent. I'll ready the plane. We'll leave at once." The Bat left as Alfred stood silently in the corner. No sooner had she left the room then she heard the unmistakable sounds of a struggle.

Rushing back into the room, she saw Alfred lying in a heap, his crucifix broken. Dala stood over him, her lips redder than they were before. "You liar!" The Bat picked up two candlesticks and formed a makeshift cross. Dala recoiled in horror.

"Forgive me! The hunger overcame me!" Dala cowered from the Bat. "It won't happen again!" She pointed to Alfred. "Look, your servant awakens. I merely took enough to sate my thirst but not enough to turn him."

"Are you alright?" The Bat whispered to the butler. He nodded and applied a compress to his neck.

"I'll live ma'am. She barely scratched me is all."

"Come with me, now!" The Bat forced Dala up and prodded her up to the hotel roof. The Bat-gyro sat on the roof ready for take-off. "Sit next to me but don't try anything."

Dala nodded and took her seat as the Bat climbed in and started the engines. The rotors spun to life as the amazing machine cleared the roof and took off into the night.

Alfred, after cleaning the wound, picked up two knifes and a fork he had borrowed from the kitchen. "I hope these will be enough." He went into his rooms and looked at the equipment. He knew of Elizabeth Wayne's aversion to firearms but for such an enemy that they faced he wished to be ready for anything. Taking the flatware and placing it on a small workbench, Alfred readied himself for the task at hand. A small furnace rested underneath a bowel. A large mold sat next to all of it.

He placed goggles over his eyes as he turned on the small furnace. He dumped the flatware into the bowel and watched carefully as the metal turned into liquid. Once the bowel was filled with liquid silver, he carefully poured the molten metal into the bullet molds and waited. Popping them open, he gazed at the six newly formed silver bullets. "If those stories I've been reading are true, then these should be enough to stop that monster if nothing else will!"

-D

The steady hum of the gyro's motor was the only thing the Bat heard. Dala sat unmoving in the seat next to her. She pointed when they needed to change direction. After flying deeper into the countryside, the Bat spied a ruined castle off in the distance. She gestured towards Dala, who nodded.

No sooner had they corrected the course and made a heading for it then a large mesh net suddenly appeared before them and entangled the gyro. The propellers made a valiant effort but the steel weave wrapped around the body. "Brace for impact!" the Bat shouted over the rushing wind.

Doing her best to level the gyro out, they dropped like a stone into the thick trees. The control stick was torn from her hands. Dala vanished as the Bat was violently jerked against the seat, held in place only by the safety harness.

-B

The Bat came to with a slow start. Her entire body ached and her mouth felt like someone had stuffed it full of pennies. "What happened?"

Red clad feet shuffled into her view. "Ah, you're awake! Excellent!" The Monk snapped his fingers. The Bat felt herself being lifted none too gently and dragged. Her vision swam and she fought back the urge to vomit. "I regret the deception and the loss of your vehicle. It was truly a magnificent craft."

"Dala?"

"Here detective," Dala appeared next to the Monk. She wrapped a pale arm around him. "I would offer my apologies, but I fear I'm not sorry in the least."

"Why?" she choked out the words before a sack was secured over her head.

"We have need of you my dear, but don't worry. All will be revealed soon." The Monk's voice rumbled.

-B

The Bat wasn't sure how much time had passed. The sack was torn free. The room was shrouded in darkness, with only two small candles giving off a dim light. "Well, I must say you have impressed me mortal."

"People tell me so. What is your scheme here Monk? Why does a vampire want to steal money?"

The red hooded figure laughed. She thought it was a laugh, but the sounds that were coming from under the cloth were unlike anything she had ever heard before. "Why not? Money gives one access to some many things. In the olden days I would have prowled villages for tender young flesh. Now I can buy my own stock."

The Monk loomed over her. "You are the first living human being to ever set foot inside this castle. You are also the first to disrupt my plans. Madison would have delivered Elizabeth Wayne and the Wayne fortune to me, but I think you can be a much more attractive prize."

"What do you mean?" The Bat's curiosity overcame her fear.

"I will make you part of my organization. You obviously have some skills and money. Pooling it with me will increase my power and dominion."

"Yes, but there is a problem with that, namely I'd rather die than work with you." She tried to spit but found her throat dry.

"Excellent, but rest assured, your dying would only be a temporary state." The Monk stepped back into the shadows. "Of course, if you fail to serve me I do have options."

"Such as?"

"Dala told me of a manservant back at your lodgings. Thanks to her attack, he is now in my thrall. I've ordered him to come here. I hope his presence will convince you. The other option is less challenging."

"And what's that?"

"I throw you to my werewolves. If you aren't devoured then you'll be turned into a member of the pack. Either way I still win." He vanished from sight.

Once she was sure she was alone, the Bat took stock of her room. She was bound with a heavy chain to a large chair. The lock was secured on her chest. She could feel that her belt was gone, as were her boots and gloves.

"They thought of everything, but they didn't search hard enough!" Flicking her tongue against her right canine, she sucked in a breath as she pried the false tooth loose. It had taken a sizable amount of money to alter a tooth into a lock pick but she was thankful that she had planned for this kind of event. Pushing the key out, she bent her head down and picked the lock.

The padlock gave way easily enough. Slipping the tooth back into its place, she stood up and looked around. "I could fashion a cross from those candles but that would only work for a brief period. How can I stop this monster for good?" She picked up the candles and slipped them into her waistband.

-A

Alfred wheezed as he marched through the dense forest. Back at the hotel he had been overcome with the strangest compulsion. Images of a castle flooded his mind, demanding he travel there at once. He had already finished casting the silver bullets and loaded them into a small pistol when the urge came to him.

Slipping the gun into his pocket, he walked as fast as he could towards the source of the vision. The brambles snagged and tore his jacket. He ignored the pain in his feet as he slogged through the woods. "I have to be there soon." He mouthed words to no one as he pressed forward into the darkness.

-B

The Bat crept carefully down the hallway. Following the paths in the dust, she crouched down as she spied light coming from down the hall. She was on the second level overlooking a large room. Crawling towards the light, she hid behind a mildewed tapestry as the Monk and Dala entered the lower room and talked. Their voices echoed in the chamber.

"Did you escort the manservant to the dungeon?"

"Yes, master. He is completely in my power. "Dala laughed. "Shall I drain him or simply feed him to the wolves?"

The Monk seemed to consider the matter for some seconds. "Kill him then finish turning the mortal woman."

"At once my lord!" Dala bowed and walked away, her heels clicking on the ancient stones.

The Bat paled under her mask. "I've got to hurry!" Racing back the way she came, she ran down a flight of stairs two at a time. Going by the dampness in the air, she was getting closer to the lower levels. She rounded a corner and ran headlong into Dala.

The vampire hissed and lunged for her. Tearing the candles free she held them up as a makeshift cross. Dala paled and threw up her hands. Alfred's voice echoed down the hall. "Who's there?"

The Bat inched slowly towards his door. Dala followed her every step, hate in her eyes. "You can't free him and ward me off at the same time mortal."

Before the Bat could formulate a plan, a gunshot rang out. The reverb in the stone corridor was almost deafening. Dala jerked once and fell. A large bloodstain began to spread across her dress. "Alfred?"

Alfred's hand leaned out of the small cell door at the end of the hall. "Inside mistress; did I finish that devil?"

The Bat looked Dala over. The vampire was unmoving. Her eyes stared up into nothingness. "Since she was dead to begin with, I'm not sure how to answer that." She lowered the candles and rushed towards her old friend.

The Bat easily opened the door after taking the keys from Dala and embraced Alfred. "They said you were in a trance?"

"Thanks to that blighter's bite, no doubt. My mind feels clearer though."

"Yes, but the Monk will be checking on his second any moment. Maybe you'll be safer outside?" a wolf howl seemed to answer her.

"Madam, I doubt I'll be safe anywhere as long as that fiend walks the Earth."

"Then let me be the one to end it." Without thinking, the Bat snatched the pistol from Alfred's hand.

"Wait!" Alfred reached into his jacket. "I always carry a spare, just for such emergencies." He pulled a bright yellow utility belt from under his coat. The Bat smiled and slipped it around her waist.

"Thanks, now find someplace safe."

-B

The Bat was halfway up the nearest staircase when the insanity of the situation hit her. "Am I really going to kill someone?" Ever since her parents died she had an aversion to firearms. She knew how they worked, but the idea of using one herself filled her with loathing. Checking her ammo, she lightly ran her fingers over the silver bullets. "Five shots left."

Entering the main hall, she stopped as the Monk appeared on the balcony. "So, either you or the servant has slain Dala." He seemed merely annoyed at the idea. "She was a loyal ally. I wonder how you'll do as a replacement?"

"Wondering is all you'll have to settle for." She drew the pistol. The Monk laughed.

"Filled with silver, no doubt, but tell me mortal, how much ammunition did you bring?" A door in front of her opened. From the snarling sounds issuing forth, she could only guess one thing.

"Werewolves!"

"Yes, my own private pack. Vicious and hungry as well, so I would be very judicious in firing. If I can't have you as an ally, I will settle for having you as a pet."

The Monk stepped back as four werewolves stepped into the dim light. They were all tall; the shortest was a good foot taller than her. They were humanoid wolves, as that was the best description the Bat could give. Their eyes were largely blank as near as she could tell.

They moved slowly towards her and tried to surround her. She was expecting anything. Going from what she knew of wolf packs, she expected the alpha to attack first. The biggest one moved silently, his teeth barred.

Acting quickly, she holstered the gun. Popping open a compartment, she removed several small gas vials. As the alpha lunged and snapped, she tossed several of the vials directly into the monster's mouth. The glass shattered against its teeth and a pungent thick smoke was released.

The wolf howled in agony as it clawed helplessly against the blinding fumes. Tossing a few more vials into the fire behind her released enough smoke to create a small cloud. Ducking under the outstretched arms of the beasts, she darted up the stairs.

One lone wolf, however, hung back and grabbed her cape, yanking her back down. The creature seemed to grin as it loomed over her. Slipping a batarang from her belt, she quickly slammed the sharpened edge into the monster's paw. It let out a very human scream and toppled backwards into the other members of the pack, who had turned on themselves in the confusion.

Tearing her cape free, the Bat slipped up the stairs as the injured wolf was torn apart by the other members of the pack. Drawing the gun, she darted down the hall where the Monk had vanished. The small torches provided the only light in the corridor.

"I see you survived the pack. I knew you had some skill." The Monk's voice echoed off the stone walls. "Perhaps I underestimated you. It has been so long since I have been challenged like this."

Fog began to fill the corridor. "I have to admit, I feel that it would be a waste to simply kill you."

"I think we're in agreement for once." The Bat slipped another batarang from her belt and held it up to the gun barrel, forming a makeshift cross. The fog recoiled in places. Dashing through an opening, the Bat darted down the hall and dove into an open room.

Slamming the door shut behind her, the Bat glanced around the room. Rows of coffins were placed before her, each one filled with dirt. "He must be sleeping in one, but which one?"

The fog reappeared under the door and reformed into the Monk. "I've enjoyed the game, but now is the time I end it."

The Bat aimed the gun at him. The Monk stopped. Under his red hood she could feel his eyes narrowing. "Put that toy away. You know you don't have the strength to use it."

"I have the strength to not use it." The Bat countered. She could feel her arms growing heavier. If she didn't shoot now, she wouldn't have another chance. She grappled with the decision as much as she fought to keep the pistol upright.

"He's a vampire. There is no other way to stop him!" She forced her eyes away as she noticed something creeping along the floor: sunlight. The Monk moved closer to her, unaware of the rising sun. Forcing her hands up, she made him pause as she held up the cross.

"Fool! With my power at best you can hope for a stalemate but you will tire eventually!" The Monk roared.

Instead of words, the Bat lowered the cross and dashed towards the boarded up window. Aiming the gun carefully, she fired two shots into the rotted wood. The Monk, realizing at last her plan, snarled and charged.

The boards were loosened by the bullets. Using the batarang, she popped one board free and ducked as the searing rays of the sun flooded the room. The Monk howled in agony as he staggered backwards. Using the distraction, the Bat pried the other boards free, completely bathing the room in daylight.

The Monk, flames and smoke pouring from his robes, tried to slip inside a coffin that was resting on a large table. The Bat fired one shot into the table's leg, tipping and causing it to spill the box's precious dirt. The Monk, flames now reducing his body to bone, pointed a ruined stump at her. "Mortal, I will not forgive this! I damn you, now and forever!" He shrieked as his robes were finally consumed by the fire.

Turned into a raging inferno, the Monk thrashed about the room, leaving smaller fires in his wakes. The Bat ran outside as the wooden coffins caught fire. Flames followed her as the moldy tapestries that hung on every wall erupted in flame. Sparks and embers floated on the air, igniting every surface they touched.

The Bat raced through the castle. Retracing her steps she ran towards the dungeon. Dala's body was still where she last saw it. The air was already growing hot as she rounded corner after corner until she came to Alfred's cell. Without a word she threw open the door and grabbed the older man's hand. Tearing her cape free, she ripped the garment into strips and fashioned two crude masks from them. They wrapped them around their faces as they went up the stairs.

The pair ran like banshees. Heading back into the main hall, they stepped into an inferno. Fire hungrily consumed the ancient woodwork. The Bat pointed towards the main door, torn free from its hinges.

Running side by side, they made it into the courtyard just as the roof collapsed behind them. Spying the portcullis in front of them, Alfred and the Bat rushed towards the large wheel and turned it. It screamed in protest, but they managed to raise the latticed grill as the drawbridge lowered.

Making their way across the bridge, they stopped as the castle was finally consumed in the fire. "I can't believe it!" Alfred marveled at the destruction.

"I can." The Bat freed her face and looked around. "There are strange things in the world Alfred, and it looks like we have to be the ones to protect the innocent." She took one last glance at the woods in the early morning light. "Although I wouldn't mind going back to dealing with regular criminals for a while." The pair began their trek back to their hotel and civilization.

The end

Based on "Batman vs. the Vampire, part 2" which was first published Detective Comics I#32 (October 1939) with credits to Gardner F. Fox (script), Bob Kane (pencils, officially) and Sheldon Moldoff (pencils and letters)

Be here next time when the Bat takes on the Dirigibles of Doom!

And now fan mail

They Call Me Bruce

_Nice work with the fanfic_

Thanks!

From Darci

_Cambot's version of "The Bat vs. the Vampire, Part 1" turns out to be very similar to the 1939 original. It's a bit ironic that Elizabeth, AKA the Bat, seems puzzled at the idea that vampire truly exist but doesn't bat an eye at a similar mention of werewolves. Looking forward to part 2!_

Thanks, and yeah it is bit odd that she can buy one thing and not the other. Although after what she has seen, she's not going to dismiss everything but she will take everything with a grain of salt. And thanks again for proofreading this.

Upcoming tales:

Action Comics#7-Superwoman Joins the Circus

Sensation Comics#8-Wonder Woman under the Big Top!


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